Ever I Loved: It Should Have Been You
by ElizabethBella
Summary: After Joey chooses Pacey, what - and who? - is left for Dawson? This is an angsty romp with Andie, Gretchen, Gale, Jack, Doug, Bessie, Bodie all making appearances. Stand alone story/Last in series. COMPLETE! PLEASE FEED THE WRITER w/REVIEWS! Thanks!
1. Strange Bedfellows

_A/N: This story came to me all at once, bam. This is a Dawson fic, and he's prowling around every single woman on the canvas. However it starts out, I promise Andie will be OK - I like her. Dawson I make no promises for, he may end up with some tragic disease. Set in my 'Ever I Loved' Universe but definitely can be read as a standalone. This is what happens after the wedding... As always, the care and feeding of the author with comments is ... um... well, seriously requested. Begged for. Don't make me come over there. _

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Andie watched the shadows of the long Los Angeles sunset from the deck. Wrapped in nothing more than a silky white sheet and sipping a cool, expensive Sauvignon blanc.

"Any sushi left?" he asked, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder.

"Mmmm, a little," Andie sighed.

Dawson picked at the food. Stealing a long swallow of Andie's wine, he watched her through the glass. Handed it back with a long, slow smile.

"What?" she asked, adjusting the makeshift toga with a self-conscious frown.

"I just never realized how…"

She cocked her head and waited.

"…pretty you are. Long hair suits you."

"Thank you," Andie blushed a bit. Looked back at the crimson sunset. "You know, it's only that beautiful because of all the air pollution."

Dawson glanced over his shoulder and then back at her. "I know," he acknowledged. "And they say crime doesn't pay."

Andie laughed and finished the wine. He took the glass from her and carefully placed it on the table. Leaning into Andie's body, his intentions clear.

She took a tiny step back.

He searched her expression; saw they were on different wavelengths. _OK, then._ Dawson straightened. He wanted to tug her sheet, let it fall. Look at all of her bathed in the buttery sunbeams. Kiss all of her, right here in the open. In the hot California sunset. For a moment he didn't care it was public. Wouldn't care if there were a thousand paparazzi dangling from the decks below and above his. Wouldn't care if the entire freaking Rose Parade was marching by. Andie looked delicious.

She watched Dawson from the corner of her eye. _Dawson. The golden guy_. _Giving her some cheesy lusty stare as though she was near the same league as the women in this city._

_Damn, _she thought_. What was she doing here?_

"Uh…10 weeks?" she said, finally.

Dawson started, confused.

"Gretchen," Andie reminded him. "You said it's been 10 weeks since you talked? What happened?"

"I don't know," he exhaled in frustration. "We didn't argue or anything. She just left me a message saying she needed space and would call me when she was ready. Then… then…" Dawson looked up and frowned. "Wait, why are we talking about this?"

Andie shrugged. "Because it's who you're thinking about. And I'm your friend. At least I think I am."

Dawson was nonplussed. "You don't know?"

She looked up in thought.

"How can you not know?"

"We were in the same circles, but the only person I truly connected with back then outside my family was Pacey. And we all know how that turned out." She breathed the smoggy air. Tightened the sheet around her small body.

"We were close," he said quietly.

She looked at him.

"The summer when Pacey and Joey… well. That summer. You kept me sane. You and Jack and Jen."

"Mostly Jack and Jen."

"Don't underestimate yourself."

"Don't rewrite history on my account. I've spent a lot of time reconciling to my past, there's no need to sugar-"

"I'm not," he interrupted. "Yes, Jen and Jack were great. They did everything short of donning face paint to keep me amused. But you…

"Chased boys and shared beers?"

"No. You were honest. You were a true North. You understood. I'd look over at you, and it was on your face. I don't know what to call it. Grief. You and I, we'd lost our first loves to each other."

"Didn't make us close."

"Gave us a bond."

Andie couldn't argue that point. "It was all such a long, long time ago."

"You think I live in the past."

"I think you make a pretty good living off it," she smiled. Looked pointedly at the condo behind them, the wide deck overlooking the Los Angeles skyline.

"Fine distinction, but I'll take it. Not nearly as noble as doctoring to the sick, of course."

She waved off the compliment. "It's what I have to do. My obsession, if you will. It's not like I sacrificed everything and went to live on a Leper colony."

"Don't do that. Don't make it sound trivial."

She shrugged.

They fell quiet.

Andie readjusted the sheet again but still felt overexposed. Felt awkward. Worse, now. She opened the glass doors and headed back into the cool great room of Dawson's condo and hunted for her clothes.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I think I should go. It's getting late. Rush hour traffic and all."

"Traffic?" He lifted an eyebrow.

" I think it's time to step back through the looking glass."

"Don't be silly," he smiled. "Stay."

Andie met his eyes. "I don't think so."

"I thought we were having fun here. What's wrong?"

"You don't feel like this is strange? You and me, like this?"

"Unexpected, maybe. But in a good way."

"You're thinking about Gretchen; I'm trying not to think about you thinking about Gretchen."

"I'm not thinking about Gretchen right now, Andie," he promised.

"You're Dawson Leery. Someone I used to know, but that was before you were the next John Huston and all…" she waved her hand around, trying to find the right word. Instead she found her bra and t-shirt and pounced, quickly dressing.

"Not John Huston."

"What?" Found her thong. Pulled it on under the sheet.

"Not John Huston. He was avant-garde, practically founded the eclectic approach. Filmed in sequence and …" he trailed off, watched her pull on the tissue-thin long skirt. Fold the sheet with a snap and drop it on his couch. "Don't go."

"What?" _Damn her for carrying such a tiny purse that was easy to lose_. It wasn't tucked in the sofa cushions. Not by the front door.

"Don't go. I know this is new territory for us but slow down. Stay. Talk to me, Andie."

The purse was under one of her sandals by the dining room table.

"Andie, you've gone from 0 to 50 here. One minute we're sharing sushi and the next you're leaving a vapor trail to my front door?"

Andie held up hand. "Dawson, this isn't new territory. This is your territory."

"No," Dawson argued. "What's really going on? Please."

She found her other shoe. "I haven't hooked up in a long time," she admitted. "I'm not sure what to say."

"Hooked up?"

"Yeah. And I can't have a lost weekend with you, Dawson. You're not just some guy. You and I are going to be seeing each other at weddings and baptisms and reunions for years to come."

"Why are we talking about lost weekends and reunions? Can't we just be in this moment? Right now?"

"Have you met me?" Andie gave a wry laugh. "I'm Andie McPhee. The one with the issues? This was nice, Dawson. It was. But in about 10 minutes, we're going to go from nice to really complicated. I just think it's best if I leave now so we can get to the part where we start pretending it never happened." She slid her feet into her sandals and pulled the thin strap of her purse over her shoulder.

Dawson began to feel a little angry but was unsure why. _Something Andie's expression was muddling him up inside_. "We're not teenagers on spring break, Andie. I think we can handle whatever this is. We're grown adults who have known each other half our lives."

Andie looked up and locked eyes with Dawson. "That kind of what makes this worse," she admitted, wincing because her voice was shaking a bit with that frightened, neurotic tone that she'd worked so hard to leave behind.

"Worse?" he was turning into a parrot, echoing her words but not understanding. "Wait, Andie…"

"No," Andie disagreed, her hand already on the doorknob. "I should to go now, please."

He stood, helplessly, as she let herself out. _Damn_.

He dropped onto a chair, dragging a hand through his hair. Unsure why he was pissed. Normally, casual and quick was exactly what worked in his life.

A few seconds later the phone rang. Dawson grabbed it up with barely a glance at the number. "Andie. Come back…" he started.

"Dawson?"

"Gretchen?" He pulled back and looked at the number again. "Gretchen? Where are you?"

"I'm here. In Los Angeles. The Hyatt downtown. Was that Andie you were talking to?"

"Uh, long story. You're here? Stay where you are, and I'll come get you."

"No, I'll come to you. 10 minutes. If that's OK?"

"Of course," he answered. Then looked around at his condo. The rumpled bed, the plates, the empty bottle of wine. Worst possible timing, he thought to himself. With a groan, he moved quickly to clean up the evidence of the afternoon.

When Gretchen rang from the lobby, Dawson had just jumped out of the world's fastest shower. He barely had time to pull on a pair of faded jeans and shirt before he heard he knock on his door.

"Gretchen," he stepped back, letting her in.

"Dawson," she gave him a ghost of a smile.

She followed him down the hall, and it took him a moment to really see her profile.

"Gretchen?" he cocked his head, wondering if the fog from his hours with Andie, the liquor, and the surprise of seeing Gretchen was all just fucking with him.

But her expression told him different. "Yes, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," she looked him square in the face. Like she was ready for battle.

"You're pregnant?" saying it out loud didn't make the unreality of what he was seeing any different.

"Yes," she repeated, her hand protectively sliding over the gently protruding belly under her maternity top.

"Holy shit!" Dawson rubbed a hand over his mouth, adrenaline kicking in and his head spinning a mile a minute. "Uh, sorry. That isn't the right thing to say. Just, uh, give me a second."

"No, don't worry about it," Gretchen chuckled a little. "That's exactly what I said."


	2. The Telling, All Around

_A/N: Did I mention that I own NONE of these characters? And smokeydog - THANKS for my first comment on this one. I promise this isn't exactly a D/A :) _

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"So she's telling him?" Joey took a long swallow of some very cold ice water and sighed with happiness.

"Tonight," Pacey agreed. "Are you still hot? How can you be hot? It's like negative zero degrees outside."

"Negative what? With those math skills, I shudder for the future of our child. And I've got a baby furnace permanently set on high, if you've forgotten." She rested her glass on top of her belly, which these days seemed to double as an occasional table.

"There's something wrong with this, Jo. You need to see the doctor." He curled up next to her on the couch, his forehead wrinkled in worry.

She reached out her fingers to sooth his face. "I see a doctor. _Every week_. Until, hopefully, the eviction comes through and then you can take over with the care and feeding of this little miracle. Until then, I'm on full swelter, Pace. 24/7. God, how can women have babies in the summer? Can you imagine being this hot on the inside AND it being that hot outside?"

Pacey tugged at his sweater and gave her a look. "I don't remember hot. Hot was like, months ago. You turned the air conditioning on in Thanksgiving and I haven't been warm since."

"I didn't."

"The hell you didn't. You want to see the electric bills? I've been wearing two pairs of socks to bed. And jammies. I haven't worn jammies since…"

"Those aren't jammies. Jammies have the little feet in them."

"…I think ever. I don't think I have ever worn jammies. And you wouldn't think getting married would indicate a start to that kind of behavior, but here it is February and…"

"And little buttons on the bottom."

"Those are…"

"What?"

"Something else. I can't remember the word now. You've got me flummoxed."

"Flummoxed?"

"It comes from months of being refrigerated."

"Oh, and do you want to trade? Because if you do, I would be GLAD to have you being the one who has to pee all the time and forget fitting behind the wheel of the car."

"You said we had to get a hybrid," he argued. "I was all for a minivan. Practical for work, practical with the baby. But nooo…" he teased. "Now we got this itty bitty thing and I miss my damn Jeep, woman."

"Then get you damn Jeep out of the garage and drive it," she chided him. "Don't mind that you'd be killing the environment that our son…"

"Or daughter…"

"Will be growing up in. Underoos?"

"No. Flap bottoms?"

"Maybe," she conceded. "Hmm."

"Contraction?" he jumped.

"I wish," she grumbled. Darting a glance at the calendar on the kitchen wall behind them. Her due date circled in bright red marker, and only days away. But not soon enough when she hadn't been comfortable in her body for many sleepless weeks.

"How's she telling him?"

"Sneak attack, I think."

"Oh," Joey groaned, rubbing her cheek with her hand. "That sounds awful. I know Gretchen has her reasons, Pace, but I just think…"

"Me, too," Pacey promised her softly, laying his hand reverently on her stomach. "I wouldn't have wanted to miss a moment of this."

Joey placed her hand over his and leaned her head on his shoulder. He turned and kissed her hair.

It was the ring of the phone that forced them out of their comfortable quiet.

"Jack," Pacey said, looking at the Caller ID before answering.

"Hey! How are you guys?"

"No contractions yet," Pacey said, responding to the first thing everyone asked these days. "How about you?"

"No contractions here, either. Look, I was wondering if you two were doing anything tonight? Because we were going to go to a movie and…"

"Oh, that's sweet and all, Jack. But I don't think the missus here could wedge herself into one of those little theater chairs. And even if she could, I seriously doubt we could get her out…"

Joey hit him in the arm. Hard.

"Good, because what I really need is someone to watch the munchkin. The babysitter cancelled at the last minute and-"

Pacey covered the phone and whispered, "Can we watch Amy?" to his wife.

She thought about it a second and nodded.

"Yeah, we'd be happy to. Although it might be better if you brought her here, since Joey isn't all that comfortable these days, so she really likes to stay-"

"Way ahead of you," Jack laughed.

And the doorbell rang.

X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X

Dawson reached out for the sofa with his hand. Finding it, he slowly sat down.

Gretchen watched him in silence.

"We're having a baby?" he asked, never more serious in his life.

"We are," she confirmed.

"How long have you…"

"A few months."

"A few months," he repeated, stunned. "And yet, never thought maybe you should let me know?"

"We went to dinner. And I said, would you ever consider moving up to San Francisco?"

"How does that have anything to do with-"

"And you said no. And I said, what about moving in together? Maybe a family some day-"

"Some DAY!" his voice grew louder in frustration and confusion. "Hypo-_damn_-thetical, Gretch! There isn't a quiz a man should have to pass before he's allowed to KNOW that he's going to be a father!"

"You're right, and I know this looks…"

"Looks?!"

"If you would calm down…"

"When are you due? Are you all right? Have you been to the doctor? Of course you have. Do you already know what it is? Gretchen…" deflated, Dawson leaned his head back on the sofa cushion and looked up at the ceiling. Watched the shadows. Tried to believe what was happening.

"Uh, can I sit down?" she asked, the fight going out of her and feeling tentative and fragile now that she'd told him and was facing his reaction.

"Shit," Dawson muttered, jumping to his feet. "Of course." He reached out to help her but she waved his hands off.

"I'm not an invalid," she protested, sitting down in what looked to be an authentic Stickley.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable on the couch?"

"Easier to get out of something like this."

He nodded, and sat back down across from her. "You all right, Gretchen?" Dawson asked, looking at her and trying to gauge her emotions.

"I will be, now that I've faced this. Faced you."

"I'm some kind of monster?"

"No!" she promised him. "No, not at all."

"This is the second time you've run from me. Cut me out. And I just don't understand. Make me understand, Gretch," he pleaded.

"I saw that second pink line, and I knew. You'd want me to move own here. Be a family. You're a good guy, Daws. Even though you you'd just said very clearly that you had no plans on settling down to that anytime soon. About that great whetted wanderlust you have. But of course, you'd do the right thing. Dating only 3 months, and instant family? And of course, you can't move so I'm going to have to uproot my life, my job, everything..."

"We'll figure it out," Dawson promised. "If you'd just talked to me before, given me a chance. It's not like I'm hermetically sealed to the city. A lot of people have second homes somewhere else."

"Second homes!" she argued. "Like a family is some kind of weekend getaway?"

"For God's sake, Gretchen. I've only had like 10 seconds here!"

"Sorry," she muttered, but without conviction.

"First of all, you can't make my decisions for me, or react to things I haven't said or done. We have to each have a stake here, in real time and it only works if we communicate. And second, please, let me catch up and get my breath a little, OK?"

Gretchen gave him a look of agreement, and felt awful. "I found out the Friday before you came down that last time. Then you gave me that 'I wanted to travel the world while we're young and free' speech. And I just… freaked. I was pregnant before, a long time ago, and…"

Dawson nodded. _Trying to forgive. Trying to understand._ "Gretchen, you have to promise me. We're in this together. Not just because of this, but because of us. How we feel about each other. Or at least how I think we feel…"

She met his eyes but didn't say anything.

He sighed. "OK, so let's start small. When is the baby due?"

"July 4," she answered, a small smile.

"Cool," Dawson smiled back. "Baby. July 4th. This is good."

"It is?" she wondered if he was just being Dawson, saying what he knew he should.

"It is," he said as though he meant it. Although inside, a million voices seemed to be screaming in shock.

X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X

"So, wait, she's telling him NOW?"

Joey nodded, and reached for the sugar-free Popsicle Pacey offered her as he came back from the kitchen. Amy was curled up in a nest of pillows by the television watching a cartoon. Jack sat in the chair while Doug remained standing, pointedly looking at his watch from time to time.

"Jack," he prompted his partner.

"So we'll miss the previews," Jack waved at him. "You don't think this is a big deal?"

"I told her at Christmas, Dawson should have been the first to know."

Pacey grunted his agreement, and sat next to his wife. Reaching out to knead the small of her back, which he knew bothered her constantly.

She gave him a grateful smile.

"Why now?"

"20 week sonogram is in a few days," Joey answered. "She knew he should be there."

"Dawson is going to freak," Jack breathed.

"Tell me about it," Pacey looked at his wife's belly. Then up to his brother.

"Don't look at me!" Doug laughed. "That's one of the blessings of being gay, man. No accidental anything."

"Really?" Jack countered, grinning.

Doug looked over at Amy and then reached his hand out to Jack's shoulder and squeezed affectionately. "What I meant to say, is…"

"No," Jack interrupted. "It's cool. We love you, too."

"Saved by the bell," Doug patted his pockets as a cell phone began to trill. Jack pulled his phone out and answered it quickly.

"Hey, Andie! Guess where I am and who hasn't had a baby yet. What? Huh? Dawson? Slow down, sis. What happened?"

The three left behind gave him curious looks, but Jack waved them all off and headed to the kitchen for privacy

"Oh, Jackers," Andie responded miserably from thousands of miles away. "I've really screwed things up."


	3. Those Lovely Hospitals

_A/N: Loving Shiney 1983, paceysmermaid, Helen, and smokeydog for commenting - THANKS! I know how this ends, not so sure why Jack and Doug keeping popping in... :) PLEASE feed my need to know about my pretty story..._

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"I have never slept with anyone I went high school with," Doug announced, pouring himself a tall glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge.

"Gay. In the closet." Jack reminded him without looking up from his comfortable perch on the couch.

"No. I mean, I _dated_ girls. Just not ones from Capeside. This is a small town, it would have been…"

"Wrong? Because you were gay?"

"Dammit, Jack, you know what I mean. This thing with Andie is gonna kill my sister when she finds out. She already feels so-"

"You don't think it killed MY sister? Having to tell her that she just left the bed of a guy who's gonna be a father – except he doesn't know, and she isn't supposed to?"

"THAT'S what I'm talking about! Why does this have to be like this? Why couldn't you people have just taken some kind of oath of celibacy about each other?"

"Celibacy? Really? Do we live on the same planet?" Jack shared a tolerant look with his uptight other half. "Look, we both love our sisters. It's a mess, but they will be all right. And really Doug – I don't think either of them has done anything wrong."

"You're right," Doug took a long swallow of his water. "It's Dawson Leery," he finally pronounced. "Nothing but trouble, that guy."

X X X X X X X X X X X X X

Greg Swanson lifted the chart and scanned it quickly.

"Patient is only 6 years old. Good God."

Andie rubbed the back of her neck and nodded.

Greg took a deep breath and mustered his thoughts. "No wonder they called us in."

They were part of a 4-person team that was doing a Fellowship on pediatric trauma at Cedars-Sinai Hospital. Greg had been primary on-call, but Andie had already been on site.

After the day she'd had, she'd been too wound up to sleep. So she'd headed into work, hoping a few hours with the never-finished paperwork in her office would do the trick.

The call from Child Protection Services had roused them both.

"Look at how they found her," Greg handed the report over to Andie, rubbing his mouth as though fighting back the urge to throw up.

Which he was.

Andie sighed and scanned the report. "How do you want to do this?" she asked Greg.

"Time machine," he answered.

She gave him a look.

"Sorry. My brother works at NASA, so I have this sci-fi thing. What I mean is, I wish…" he trailed off, sickened by the brutality of the report.

"I know," she agreed.

"You want to take the primary assessment?" Greg grabbed his laptop. "I'll enter the info and then help CPS hunt down her family or a neighbor. Something. See if I can get some kind of history."

Andie nodded and grabbed her white jacket. Time to work.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X

Gretchen grunted as she stood up.

"Hey, are you all right?" Dawson moved to her side quickly.

"I feel a little strange, actually," she looked down at her feet. "Swollen. But then again, I feel weird most of the time so…"

"Um…" Dawson looked down as well. "I don't want to be insensitive, but are your ankles supposed to look like that?"

"Um, I don't know," Gretchen admitted. "Maybe it's from the plane ride?"

"You came from San Francisco, right? Not Kuala Lumpur? Just about an hour?"

They locked eyes.

"Can you call your doctor?" Dawson asked her. He was afraid to touch her; she had remained aloof all evening. An invisible barrier in the space between them.

But she solved the problem by reaching out for his shoulder. "Yes."

"In the meantime, let's get you over to the couch, maybe put your feet up? It's how Joey's spent the last month."

Gretchen gave him a hooded look at Joey's name but didn't say anything. She allowed Dawson to ease her towards the couch and fetch pillows for under her legs. But not without grumbling a little.

"What?" Dawson asked, fetching her purse so she could use her cell phone.

"I still have to use the bathroom," she admitted.

"Call your doctor first? Please?"

"Dawson-"

_"Please_, Gretch."

He had spent the last few hours getting accustomed to the idea he was going to be a father._What if something goes wrong_, he wondered, feeling cold at the thought.

"Fine," she acquiesced, digging out her phone and pressing a speed dial number.

Within a few moments, they were both thoroughly scared.

"Probably just normal pregnancy-related edema," she repeated softly.

"But go to the emergency room just in case."

"I don't want to go to the emergency room, Dawson. Nothing really feels wrong…"

"Don't think it's an option. So, should I call for an ambulance?"

Gretchen practically shouted in protest.

Dawson held up his hands in defense. "All right, all right. I'll call a cab."

"You have a car, right? That silver one?" She demanded, moving towards the bathroom.

"This is Los Angeles, Gretchen. I have _three_. They're all tucked safely in the basement garage. But I want to go in with you, not drop you off and try to find parking…"

"Get your car," she ordered.

"Gretchen?"

"I want YOU driving, Dawson."

"OK, be right back," he grabbed his keys and headed to the door.

Not one to sit idle, Gretchen was waiting in the lobby by the time he pulled the car around. Dawson led her to the passenger door as though she was made of fragile glass. "Cut it out," she told him, sitting down and doing up her seat belt.

"I'm nervous," he admitted, pulling into the night.

"Me too," she admitted. Gretchen reached out and he took her hand. Twining their fingers together as he navigated the way.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X

The small group of professionals huddled by the nurses' station discussing the prognosis of the department's smallest patient. The Senior Resident made his report to the Attending and the Children's Services representative, the Attending looked over at Andie and Greg. "Psych?"

"We've got no history on her, the labs aren't back, and as you've heard - completely uncooperative," Greg sighed. "We're working blind. She's been hyper-aggressive and enraged since she was brought in. Not common for a pediatric female post trauma."

"I saw these symptoms with in Boston. Patient'd had been given an adult dosage of Prozac," Andie remembered.

"Thinking it would make the child pliable," the CPS Rep mused. "I've heard of abusers doing things like that."

The Attending shook his head, swallowed the anger they were all fighting. "I'll call up to surgical. No way we can get a CT on this girl. Based on the FAST, transfer her over to them to confirm the intra-abdominal bleed and fix it. And they'll need those labs like _yesterday_," he instructed the Resident. "Then she's all yours," he indicated Andie and Greg.

The group broke up. "Tough case," Greg observed, walking with Andie back towards their office.

"On top of a tough day," she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck again. _Still wasn't helping_. Then she looked up and stopped cold.

"You OK?"

Andie shook her head. 10 feet in front of them, Gretchen was tucked into a curtained area being monitored. And Dawson was holding her hand.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X

"What's wrong with her?" Jack asked, fumbling in the dark for his bathrobe.

"Some of us are trying to sleep," Doug mumbled.

"It's Gretchen," Jack told him as gently as possible. "Andie says she's at Cedars-Sinai."

The other man snapped awake. "What's wrong with her?"

"I'm trying to find that out."

"Just telling you she's here is skirting the line, Jackers."

"Well you can't JUST tell me that!"

"Jack," Andie began, nearly in tears. "Already today I've slept with Dawson, then found out that – surprise!- his estranged girlfriend is pregnant. Now they are here, together, at my job…"

Doug sat up. "Get more details," he nudged his partner.

"I'm trying," Jack soothed. "It's awkward as hell, I know, Sis. But if you could ask them to let us know… hang on a sec. Other line's beeping."

"Do people understand that it's 1 in the morning?" Doug muttered.

"Grumpy Old Men, shows nightly in our house," Jack gave him a look.

"Jack?"

"Pacey?"

"Ask me!"

"Uh…." Jack's sleepy mind kicked in after a moment. "Oh! Contractions?"

"And about 5 gallons of water all over the floor. They said it's time to come in."

"Holy… wow. OK, on my way."

"Look, it could be hours…"

"Are you freaking kidding me?"

"Right," Pacey breathed gratefully. "Thanks, man."

Jack clicked back. "Andie? You'll never guess. While you're getting details could you maybe mention to Gretchen that she's about to be an aunt again?"


	4. Into the Night

_A/N: Countrygirl09, and shiney1983 (again! rockin!) - as well as pac__eysmermaid, Helen, and smokeydog - thank you. Comments mean so many things, and you have no idea how much I needed these!!! Joey stalling is based on my own experience of heading off to the hospital when I went into labor. Afterwards, I found out it was pretty common! The next chapter is coming pretty quickly, it just got so long I had to split it, so please don't miss Andie too much!_

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How you doing?" Pacey asked, leaning in the doorway to their bedroom.

Joey waggled her hand.

"That good?" he smiled and moved into the room. "I take it we're not doing the comedy skit of racing out the door to the hospital higgledy-piggledly?"

"What gave it away?"

"The lack of shoes and outerwear. The distinct nesting appearance under the comforter. Call me prescient, but it seems you may not have grasped the fine nuances on the situation."

"Which are, pray tell?"

"The baby on your inside is working her-"

"Or_his_-"

"Way to the outside. Which I think we agreed would best occur in the clinical excellence that is Capeside Hospital."

"We've got time. First babies can take forever."

"OK, Jo." Pacey was not about to cause his magnificent wife a moment of stress. Instead, he reached down and tucked a loose hair behind her ear. "By the way, all your orders have been carried out: the floor is mopped, the dishwasher is running, the thermostat is pre-set, the plants watered, and the bags are in the car."

Joey nodded, which turned into a grimace.

"Contraction?" Pacey sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his wife worriedly.

"Probably just gas," she tried to joke.

"Seconds ago you were saying this could take forever. This isn't looking like forever," he whispered, holding her as she fought through the spasm.

She exhaled long and loud as the squeezing inside faded. "They're not regular yet. And it's like 15 minutes in between."

Seeing her relax, he pulled himself up beside her. Leaned against the headboard and made sure she had all the pillows where she wanted them. "All the time in the world, then."

Joey looked into his eyes. "After this, Pace, we're not just a couple anymore. We're a family. Is it wrong to just want to take a moment?"

"Jo?" He took her free hand in his. "Here's the thing, you've _always_ been my family. Even when you thought I was crazy and had cooties."

"You DID," she announced smugly.

"I feel it, too, darlin'. Like we're falling into something amazing and insane. Some life-sized roller coaster."

"Yeah," she agreed. A small wave a doubt washed over her. "But you're happy about the baby?"

He placed his palm on her belly, his fingers wide. "I love you. I love this baby. I am honored beyond words to be the father of your child. Shocked, amazed, humbled, and honored. You two are my life. So yes,_happy_ would apply."

"You're going to be a great dad," she traced his hand with her finger.

"Right back 'atcha, Mom."

"Mom…" Joey breathed.

"I know," he cupped her cheek. "And really, really soon." _Let's go! Let's go!_ was humming in Pacey's head but he forced himself to remain calm. This was Joey's moment more than his, and he was determined to support however she needed to get there.

"You want me to get in the car already," she accused with a twinkle in her eye.

"Mmm hmm. But I'm practicing my patience."

"Not well. You may need special tutoring."

"You. Are. In Labor." He kissed her quickly. "Something that women may have done naturally in fields and whatnot for millennia. But, Yes, I am ready the very nanosecond you are to get 'in that car already'."

"Did you grab the iPod, and the speakers?"

"I did. I even loaded the CD's we got the other day."

"Which ones?"

"Uh…Buble, Coldplay, _Mozart for Babies_…and, uh, Def Leppard."

"Def Leppard? For giving birth?"

"Hey,_Rock of Ages_ is a classic. Appropriate for almost any occasion!"

"Pace," she kissed him back. Leaned her forehead on his cheek. "You're nuts."

"Everything is going to be ok, Jo," he promised, his hand in her hair and his eyes closed. "But we **do** need to get going here."

Joey sat up and nodded. "All right, let's go."

He slid off the bed and raced around to help her up. "Thank GOD!"

She winced as she swung her legs to the floor, huffing and bending over.

"Hey, that wasn't 15 minutes!" He put an arm around her and helped her stand.

"Yeah, well, I was never good with time." Looking at the floor, trying not to tense into the cramping feeling.

"No,**I **was never good with time. **YOU** are practically a Rolex." He rubbed the small of her back carefully. Held his other arm out in front of her in case she wanted to lean into it.

After a moment, she straightened. He immediately began leading her towards the door and down the stairs.

As they exited into the garage, he hit the switch on the wall to roll up the door as he helped her to the car.

"Uh, Pace?"

Pacey looked at her, then followed her eyes. The lit driveway beyond the opening of the garage was a wall of thick flurrying snow. "Shit," he swore. Then reaching past her, he grabbed the bag and the duffel and transferred it to the back of Cherokee. "We're taking the Jeep," he told her, steering her across the floor.

"But…"

"Screw the environment, Jo. We're taking the damn Jeep."

"No, the Jeep is good. I was just gonna say don't forget my purse."

"Right!" he saluted, dashing back for it.

"And, Pacey?" she called.

"Yeah, Princess," he shouted back, snagging her handbag from the front seat of the Hybrid.

"Hurry!" she bent into the dashboard of the Cherokee, another contraction gripping her.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"I want you to find something with your eyes and focus on it. Look right at it and breathe as normally as you can. In through your nose and long, slow exhalations through your mouth…"

"What's going on?" Dawson demanded, his knuckles white as he gripped the rail of Gretchen's gurney. There was a doctor whose name he couldn't read sitting between Gretchen's legs and a nurse telling her how to breathe.

_All this because of swollen ankles?_

Gretchen grunted with discomfort. After a moment, the doctor stood and pulled off her gloves. "OK, Gretchen, everything looks like it should. And the labs are clear. Your blood pressure is slightly elevated, but just slightly."

"What were you looking for?" Dawson asked, still feeling confused.

"Severe edema can indicate preeclampsia," the doctor explained. She looked at Gretchen and gave her a comforting smile. "I'm going to take a quick look, just to be sure, but I think we're ok here."

Gretchen nodded and relaxed. She reached out her hand. Dawson took it.

The nurse rearranged Gretchen's gown carefully, pulling the sheet up to respect her privacy. The doctor pulled up a stool and squirted green goo.

"Take a look? A sonogram?" Dawson leaned over to look at the monitor.

"Yep," the doctor took a moment to rub the wand over Gretchen's abdomen. "Do you know the sex?" she asked.

"Uh, no."

"Do you want to?"

A soft 'squish-squish' sound echoed out the speakers. The doctor looked up at the clock and then at the screen.

"What's that?"

"The soft one is Gretchen's heartbeat. The louder one is your baby's. Very strong."

"That's the heartbeat?" Dawson stared at the screen. At the white and dark designs shifting back and forth. And listened.

"Oh, this one is very active this evening. So what's the verdict, folks?"

"Can you tell?" Dawson asked, stunned.

"Oh, yes." The doctor smiled.

Gretchen looked up at him and he tore his eyes away from the screen to look into hers.

"Well?" she asked him.

"It's up to you."

"No, I'm… good either way. I am. What do you want, Dawson?"

He thought a moment. Looked over at the doctor. "I want to know."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Daddy! Daddy!" Amy screamed.

Doug jumped from bed and raced into her room, flipping the light. "What is it honey?"

He headed to her bedside and searched her face. "What's wrong?"

"Bad witches in my room!"

He sighed. Pushed the golden hair from her face. "No, no witches, just a bad dream."

"Where's Daddy? I want Daddy!"

"Daddy had to go help Aunt Joey and Uncle Pacey. They're having a baby, remember?"

"In her tummy?"

"It's coming out, now. And Daddy is going to the hospital to help."

"Is he gonna push on her tummy?"

Doug swallowed a laugh. "No, just make sure they have what they need."

"I want Daddy. I'm thirsty."

"Well I can get you something," Doug stood up to head out to the kitchen.

"NOOOO!" Amy screamed.

"What is it, Amy?" Doug dragged a hand through his hair, exhausted and beginning to feel a little impatient.

"I want Daddy," she sobbed. "It's scary!"

"Scary?" Doug looked around at the soft pink room, and the princess toddler bed, and the rainbow tapestry, and the leaning pile of stuffed animals, and small table completely covered in Polly Pockets, and the fluffy white curtains on the windows. "What is there to be scared about, Amy?"

She didn't answer, just looked up at him with watery, panicked eyes.

Something in Doug Witter broke. He headed back to the bed and held out his arms. It went against everything he'd decided was good parenting, but... _screw it_.

She stood on her bed and jumped, her purple princess gown pajamas swirling. He caught her and settled Amy on a hip. "Let's get you a sippy cup of water."

"Appa," she corrected, her pet name for Apple Juice.

"Water," he argued, carrying her to the kitchen and one handedly digging out the cup and its screw top. Giving in, he filled it with a very watered down apple juice, imagining rotting teeth as he did so. He screwed on the top and handed it to her, carrying her back to bed.

"Sleep in your bed?" she asked.

Doug went still. He'd never allowed Amy to sleep in their bed, saying he was afraid to crush her. It had been a sore point between he and Jack. Looking at her big Cindy-Lou Who eyes, so recently filled with the abject terror of a nightmare, he now wondered how Jack had ever said no to her.

"Um, uh…"


	5. Don't Push!

_A/N: Like I said, quick! Would LOVE to hear how y'all want it to end!_

**_XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX_**

Andie leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

"Hey," Greg said softly, pushing into the office.

"Hey."

He sat at one of the desks and pushed the laptop into the dock. Once the monitor flickered on, Greg began making sure that the data in their patient's EHR (electronic health record) was updated.

Andie McPhee had always been professional, yet somewhat aloof. Tonight, though, she looked like she needed a friend.

But every time he tried to reach out, she pulled back.

So Greg just fought to keep himself neutral. Not intrude. "She's up on the surgical floor. Ah, the labs still aren't in." He reached for the phone.

Andie remained against the wall, quiet as Greg worked. Terrified that she would explode if he so much as said a kind word to her. But he barely looked at her, glancing only briefly before heading out again.

She watched the door click, and reached out and turned off the light. Letting herself cry only once the dark had returned.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Into the silence of the kitchen, Bodie's voice echoed as he responded to Bessie on the phone. There were no guests in the B&B, so he felt comfortable in just a rattie old robe and socks.

"What do you mean they aren't there?" He grumbled. "Right, it's an obvious statement. I'm just wondering if you know…"

"Well, maybe they headed over to the Leery house to give birth on their kitchen table..."

"Yes, I am TOO funny..."

"Alexander just got back to sleep, I had to dig up the children's Nyquil…"

"No, do NOT drive on those streets. Let Jack have Doug do this. Yes, Bess. I'm serious,"

He looked out the window where the fat white flakes were so thick in the sky that he could barely make out the lights along the creek dock just 100 yards away.

He listened to her voice and watched the snow fall. "We've got the Mobil Travel Guide inspector coming in 7 hours," he reminded her. "And I've got all the deliveries coming to the restaurant for the Valentine's dinner. Plus…"

Rubbed his head, closed the curtains, set the kettle to boil. "Bessie, of course this is more…yes. OK. Love you, too."

He spooned dried leaves into the diffuser and dropped it in a mug. Then he made his reluctant thumb press the speed dial number. "Good morning, Gale. I hate to wake you…"

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

She was biting her lip. Dawson saw it and flashed on years' worth of 'Gretchen moments'.

"Wait," he told the doctor.

Gretchen caught his eyes. Cocked her head in curiosity.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked her.

"I thought I wanted to, but…"

The beeper on the doctor's waist went off. "Well, kids," she motioned to the nurse and took a paper from her, scribbling something down and then carefully folding it in quarters to hide the text. "When you decide, here it is. I'm sorry, but I have to go take care of some other patients."

Dawson took the paper and pushed it deep into a pocket while the nurse cleaned off Gretchen's belly and gave you instructions on what to watch for.

Gretchen accepted a print-out from the sonogram machine of the baby's profile. "Wow," she breathed.

"Wow," Dawson agreed. He helped her stand. "So, why don't we get your things at the hotel and then head back to the condo?"

"Hotel," she agreed, softly. He slipped his arm around her, loving how familiar it was. And headed her towards the exit.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

The buzzing woke Doug. The incessant, annoying buzzing. He grabbed at it and brought it to his ear, anger already rising.

"What?!" Doug shouted, and then poked himself in the cheek with a pink Polly Pocket play phone.

"Dammit," he muttered, reaching his hand out again. Finding the evil buzzing device.

"Doug?" Jack asked.

"Give me a second, " Doug groaned, rubbing his cheek.

"What's wrong?"

"Pink," Doug muttered, trying to get his bearings. "Never mind. What's going on?"

"Pacey and Joey aren't here yet. Not answering their cells or the house line. And is something wrong there? Is Amy all right?"

"Shit, OK. When did you last hear from them? And Amy had a bad dream, that's all. She's fine now."

"An hour ago. And the snow's getting really bad."

Doug looked over at the window. Saw the white. Sighed. "OK, stay where you are. I'll call back."

"Thanks," Jack breathed. "And Doug?"

"Yeah?"

"There's two yoga mats and a pillow under her bed."

"What?"

"If you're where I think you are, they'll make that floor bearable."

Doug rolled onto his side and peered under Amy's bed. A big lump of a pillow, and a roll of two foam yoga mats were within reach. He grinned to himself. "Thanks," he said huskily.

"I was about to say the same to you."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Gale hugged herself against the chill and waited for the water to boil.

"What's going on?" Neil asked, dropping a kiss in her hair as he tightened his bathrobe.

"Pacey and Joey are out there on the roads, missing," she said worriedly. "And Joey's in labor."

"Ouch," he winced.

"I'm going to go into the restaurant in a couple of hours and take the deliveries. Bodie needs to stay home with Alexander at the B&B. And I was wondering if you could…"

"Name it, " he said. "You want me to get one of my trucks to check the route?"

Gale nodded. Her second husband's landscaping business did snow removal in the winter to balance the seasonal work.

"I'll call 'em. I call over to the city, too. Get their plows on the lookout."

Gale looked out the window and shuddered. Memories seeding fear in her mind. "I hope they're all right."

"I'm sure they're fine," he told her, but she couldn't take her eyes off the snow.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Pull over!" Joey ordered.

"But we're…"

"Pull over! Pull OVER!" she screamed.

"Jo, the hospital is less than a mile. Just a few more minutes."

"You've been saying that for AGES! Pull Over NOW!"

"Jo, if I pull over – we may get stuck in a drainage ditch. I can't do that."

The road was just two darkened lines from the wheels of the cars that had been ahead of them. The rest was unbroken white, as far as they could see.

"PULL OVER!" she grunted, squeezing the armrest with white knuckles and panting in pain.

"Josephine Potter-"

"…Witter," she corrected automatically.

"…listen to me," Pacey said sternly but kindly. "This is a good old-fashioned utterly unexpected blizzard we're in, here. I am _not_ pulling over. Look, there's the street for the hospital, OK?"

"Pace," she bit out, tears running down her face. "I can feel the baby's head. I think I can. Coming out."

He spared a look at his wife. Joey had kicked off her boots and jacket miles back. She was leaning in the seat, her jean skirt hiked up to her thighs and her feet braced on the hard plastic dashboard in front of her.

And her seatbelt still on, he noticed with a surge of affection. _That was his girl, Safety first_.

"It takes forever, you said," he reminded her.

She reached between her legs with her left hand. "Oh My God, Pace," she whimpered, terrified. "I do... I think I feel the baby."

Pacey stopped the car. Right in the middle of the street. Flipped on his emergency flashers.

His cell phone was tucked into the pocket of the visor. He reached up and pressed a button on it.

The speakerphone sounded the ringing as he unsnapped his own seatbelt and reached over to her.

"Pacey? Where the hell…"

"Dougie, we're on Front Street, just about a quarter mile from Pine. She's having the baby."

"Now?"

"Yeah. I had to stop."

"Hang on, hang on. Don't hang up."

Pacey reached for the bag in the back seat and pulled out a blanket and a container of hand wipes.

Joey whimpered and tried to relax. The pain was ripping her in half.

"Hang in there," he whispered, wiping one of the cool clothes across her forehead. Another to clean his hands. No way to get into the glovebox for the flashlight, he took a breath and pulled her jean skirt up farther. Helped her take off her underwear.

"Hello?"

"Dougie?"

"One of my deputies is about 10 minutes from you. He's got a first aid kit and some experience with birth."

"Some? What's some?"

"Uh…dogs. Well, puppies. I think."

"Puppies?!" Joey screamed, her damp hair spilling into her eyes.

"And a class in emergency birth. For humans," he added.

"Can you get a doctor on the phone?"

"Sure," Doug flashed over and dialed.

"Doug?"

"I've got them on the phone, Jack. They're stopped at Front near Pine."

"That's only a couple of minutes…"

"They aren't going to make it. Grab one of those doctors. Get them on the phone."

"Shit. Yes. Hang on." Jack ran up to the nurses' desk, Bessie jumping up to hear the news. One of the nurses hunted for a free physician. After a moment, Jack lost patience and flashed his cell.

"What's up?" she answered softly from the dim of her office.

"They aren't gonna make it to the hospital. They need a doctor to walk them through…"

"Connect me," Andie said crisply. She pulled the door open and began sprinting towards OB-GYN.

"OK."

"All right," he said after a push of a button.

"Good," Doug answered, pushing another button.

"I need help!" Pacey shouted, feeling the hardness of what he figured was his child's head pushing towards the world.

"I'm here, Pace," Andie said clearly from thousands of miles away. "Joey? I'm here."


	6. On The Night You Were Born

A/N: I want to thank y'all for your comments. I doubt I would have finished this today without them. You really touched and inspired me. Y'all ROCK.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_This is what I remember._

_It was the middle of a blizzard that no one warned was coming. _

_It snowed so hard that the window wipers couldn't move it fast enough. Like being very tiny on the back of a polar bear. White fur so thick that you could barely tell where the sky was._

_Your dad drove as fast as could, but the contractions were coming even faster. On Front Street, just by the old Episcopal Church, he stopped the car. Right in the middle of the road._

_We had a blanket that we'd packed so I'd have something warm in the hospital. It was a blue quilt that Grams had given us when we got engaged. And it _did_ keep me warm, even though I was shaking._

_Every once in a while I'd hear Andie, or even Uncle Doug saying something to us. But mostly what I heard was your Dad._

_He said we were going to be all right. And you know what he says: he's never wrong._

_Then there was a bright light; it was the headlights on the trucks come to help us._

_A police officer set off flares to warn other drivers about us. So there were fireworks for you._

_And a tow truck driver began plowing the way to the hospital. But a deputy with a big hat opened the door and then told everyone there was no time. He said that we were mid-miracle and there was no stopping you. _

_ Suddenly, your Auntie Bessie and Uncle Jack were there, too. They got in behind us, and your Auntie Bessie was holding my shoulders when your daddy looked at me and said it was time to push. _

_They say that giving birth hurts, but not giving birth hurts more. I know because as you came into the world, that's when the pain stopped._

_ What I felt was relief, and joy, and awe._

_And it snowed right into the car as you shouted to us. Because your mouth was born first._

_Then I pushed again, and the rest of you arrived._

_Your daddy held you in his hands and began to cry. You fit right there. In the palms of his hands._

_The deputy dried you off and clamped your cord and wrapped you in a towel._

_Then your daddy reached out and laid you carefully on my chest. And you looked right at him and were quiet._

_I could barely believe you were here. And you had ten fingers and ten toes and lots of dark hair. Your hand wrapped around my finger tight and my lips on your skin as I felt you breathe._

_The ambulance came and more cars. And it was like a parade with lights flashing and all the people driving behind a big plow through the snow back to the hospital._

_The doctors said you were perfect but we wouldn't let them take you away._

_Your dad and I lay in that bed with you and just stared._

_Then the nurse came, just as you were falling asleep. And she said that your Dad had to sign the birth certificate because he delivered you. Height: 19 inches. Weight: 7 lbs, 4oz. Eyes: Blue. Hair: Brown. Sex: Boy. Name: Brendan Mitchell Witter._

_The nurse looked down at you as she took the paper away. And she said, "Welcome to the world, Brendan."_

_And your Daddy and I swear to this day that you smiled._

_Even though they say it was just gas._


	7. Your Smiling Face

_A/N: I am so, so sorry - I caught the damn flu, really bad. It completely knocked me out. Here is the biggest chapter I ever wrote - it is actually the next three chapters of the story all in one, to catch everything up. I really really hope you like it. I had a goal to put a smile on each character's face - even though there was a lot of drama to get them there! There is one sort of sad, sort of sentimental chapter left. Thanks for your patience!!_

----------------------------------------------------------------------_  
_

Dawson leaned in the doorway, Gretchen's bag over his shoulder.

"What?" she asked, turning in the middle of the room to look at him when he didn't follow her in.

Then he said it. The most dreaded words in the English language; "Gretchen, we need to talk."

"We do," her expression was worn-out but serious.

He took a deep breath and then decided to just dive right in. "I haven't seen you in over two months. And here you are…" he sputtered, lost steam.

She waited, and didn't say anything.

"It has been a long, strange day," he thought aloud. Dawson dropped her bag by the door and moved to kneel beside her. "The last thing I want to do is make it even longer, but I've learned the hard way that the problems we go to bed with only get worse in the morning."

"So let's talk," Gretchen told him. "It's why I came down here, if you remember."

"Uh," he dragged a hand through his hair. "Do you need anything first? Are you feeling all right?"

She cocked her head and studied him. "A little tired, but good."

"And the baby?" He looked down at her stomach.

"We're both good," she promised. Lowered herself into what had become her favorite chair. Dawson grabbed up one of the dining room chairs and placed it opposite her, topping the seat with a pillow from the couch.

"C'mon, doctors said keep your feet up."

She rolled her eyes a bit and then lifted her legs onto the makeshift ottoman.

"I've been thinking, about what you said. About our lives in two different places."

"That's what you wanted to talk about?"

"Ah, part of it," He sat down across from her. The sunrise through the long glass windows brought out the auburn in her hair, the dimple in her smile. "You were right, Gretchen. I mean, when I thought about it – which I admit I have rarely done – just going as far as Pacific Palisades seems exotic. Malibu? Forget it. And San Francisco might as well be the moon."

"People who live there would say the same thing," she noted. "And I know how tied you are to your job. How many dates have I spent in a ménage a trios with your damn Blackberry?"

He ruefully nodded in agreement. "Until last summer, there just hasn't been a relationship that was as important to me, as pressing and engrossing, as my career. I know that sounds horrible, but not since…"

"Since Joey?"

He caught her eye. "I was going to say, since my dad died," he corrected her. "But yeah, I admit. I was willing to give it up – or at least, change it around, for Joey."

Gretchen exhaled noisily. It was old ground.

"Then our baby's heartbeat literally spun everything that's real to me onto a whole new axis."

"See? That's just what I didn't want," she groaned. "For it to be about this baby. It will only make you resent it…"

"Shit," he swore. "Gretchen, please."

"I know what it's like to grow up being resented, Dawson. The 4th of five kids, if you remember. And worst yet, another daughter."

"And I'm your parents?" He challenged tartly.

"No, of course not. But…"

"No, I'm not," he reiterated. "Gretchen, we have enough to deal with here without borrowing from the past or anyone else. And I'm not an 18-year-old high school kid. I'm a grown man, about to be a father. I get to inform my own choices, with my own criteria. Ten years ago, we got together at a time in our lives when we had both been through two respective emotional hells. And the years between our ages gave you a different perspective back then. A wisdom about what was ahead for us that I just didn't have. But that's changed."

"If that's true, then why was my first instinct when I saw that second line on the pregnancy test to worry about how you would take it? How it would upset your career?"

"Why the hell is that on me?" Dawson exploded. "How can you make your fears somehow my flaws? Gretchen, on any given day I have over 400 people who report up to me. I manage budgets in the tens of millions. I have two shows shooting simultaneously, I'm in the zillionth rewrites of a major script, and there's like ten other projects in the pipeline. It is a serious career, and crazy. But exactly what about it gives you any indication in the slightest that it means I would make a bad husband or bad father? If anything, it should be patently obvious that I can handle prioritization, that I do know how to delegate and juggle my time. And that I am not afraid of hard work, especially when motivated for a love of what I am doing."

"Uh…" she blinked. "Who said anything about husband?"

"THAT'S your response?" he exclaimed, frustrated.

"I fucked up! Is that what you want to hear? _I fucked up!_ Twice in my life I have gotten pregnant. And _both_ times by a guy who had clearly said and demonstrated that a baby was the last thing they wanted at the moment."

"NOT the last thing. Not even close. If there is even a glimmer of doubt that I want this child with all my heart then banish it. Banish it from your mind and soul, Gretchen. I love you. I love that baby. My career doesn't place in the race when up against what I feel about this family. And when I think…"

They both fell silent. Their breathing echoing in the quiet of the condo.

He sat back down. She looked over at him. He reached out his hand. She slipped her fingers between his. And exhaled.

"I'm sorry, Dawson. I'm so sorry. My whole life…growing up in my dysfunctional family. I think I have always measured what I was going to do with what the consequences and reactions would be. With my dad," she looked over at him ruefully. "I kind of had to. You know, it was just easier to figure out before I ever said anything how bad it would upset the applecart. I think I developed this habit of sort of…"

"Magic thinking?"

"Yeah. Planning my responses to what other people would say before I ever gave them the chance to say it."

"Funny."

"What?"

"Pacey went in the exact opposite direction."

"It seemed that way, didn't it?" She caught his eyes. "I should have given you the chance back at Thanksgiving. I'm sorry, Dawson."

"Me, too. But we're together now."

"We are," she squeezed his hand. "Kind of ironic, when you think about it."

"What?"

"Well, the first time we dated, I admit I was kind of glad that we kept putting off sex. Not that I realized it until later, but I was still healing. And terrified of getting pregnant again."

Dawson snorted. "Turns out? With good reason. When I think of the protective measures this baby overcame to be conceived…"

They shared a secret smile, both blushing a little with the memories.

"So… partners?" She asked.

"No more secrets. No more magic thinking, deciding how I'll react, anything like that?"

"I'll try, Dawson. Just like you'll try to turn off that Blackberry once in a while?

"Actually? I got an iPhone."

"Dawson," she groaned.

"It's a deal," he promised, reaching over to hold both her hands in his.

"Deal," she echoed, leaning in to kiss him softly.

"So," he told her. "Here's what I'm thinking. I called my assistant last night when they kicked me for your exam. And I had her clear my week…"

"Wow," Gretchen grinned, impressed. "What about pilot season?"

Dawson shrugged. "We've got a couple of demos out this year, only one full pilot. I have people that can handle it for the week. I want to fly up to with you, go house hunting. One of those skinny Victorians that you love."

"Dawson," she breathed.

"You are the entertainment editor of the biggest newspaper in the San Francisco, Gretchen. That's huge. And definitely not a job you can do from 700 miles away. We'll need some real room, so I can put an editing suite in. And I've been thinking. The studio has been after me to move '_The Creek_' to Vancouver now that the cast is supposed to be going off to college, to cut down all the location costs. I can commute to Vancouver easily from San Fran."

"College? Does that ever work with a teen series?"

He laughed out loud. "I guess we're about to find out. _The Creek_ isn't even half my time anymore, to be honest. It's all production, screenwriting, movie direction… I'm not saying this is going to be easy. But the bottom line here is that we'll make it work, Gretchen. It's possible. If you want it."

"Do you have any idea how expensive those skinny Victorians are?"

He tipped his head back and laughed again.

"I had to say it, Dawson. It stretched me to eating Ramen noodle soup just to buy that little 1 bedroom condo."

"We can afford it," he pledged. "So it's a plan?"

"If it's what you really want," she agreed, feeling somehow softer and happier inside.

"It is."

"Then yes, I want it too."

"Good," he relaxed. "Before we hit the hay, though, there's one more thing."

"More?" she chided, without any malice.

"Yes, well, on that 'No More Secrets' pledge…" He stopped and thought about what he was going to say. There was just no easy way to do it. "Look, the way we left things - I had no way of anticipating when I woke up this morning, or yesterday morning I guess it is now, that you would be here. The days turned into weeks, and I began to think you didn't want to have anything more to do with me, Gretchen."

"Dawson..."

He stood and pushed his hands into his pockets. Felt the piece of paper the doctor had given him under his fist. And turned to look out of the window, everything crashing his emotions together with the loud echo of cymbals in his mind.

"It's just that, there's some things I'm going to need to clear up. A person I need to tell what's happened."

Understanding slowly dawned. "Wait, you're planning on house hunting with me when you have a new girlfriend out there?" Surprise trickled through her like ice down her veins.

"Not a girlfriend," Dawson corrected. "It was hardly anything at all."

"Then…"

"I wouldn't even mention it, but…" he heaved a sigh.

"Who?" she asked.

"Gretchen," he demurred, feeling like shit.

"Tell me."

"You sure you want to hear this?"

"I'm sure," she promised.

"Andie," he said, hearing her quick gasp of surprise. "Since she got to Los Angeles, I'd been forwarding her some invitations; studio stuff, club openings. To be nice. She never accepted until a couple of weeks ago, when out of the blue she emailed a response to a premiere saying yes. It was all just friends, Gretch."

"Until?"

"Until," he repeated. "Last weekend." It hurt to say it out loud. And the better devils of his brain were screaming at him to shut up. But then Joey's face swam before his eyes. Her shouts, her anger, her tears in that little bathroom so long ago. Dawson knew he couldn't make the old mistakes. There was too much at stake now.

"And now?" Gretchen had to know.

"It was just an aberration. Lighthearted fun. For both of us. She was adamant about that. And the truth is that I've spent most of the past 10 weeks and 3 days talking about you…" he wiped his mouth, still unable to look back at her. "But I'll need to have a conversation with her. She deserves that."

She nodded, slowly.

"Gretchen, tell me what you're thinking. Please."

She pulled herself up and walked to him. Standing so close they were practically touching.

"I think I'm OK," she said softly. "As long as this is really what you want. I can't be second best, Dawson. I couldn't endure it if we grew to resent each other."

He turned away from the window and searched her face. "I love you," he said clearly, with conviction. "You are my first choice."

Tentatively, she reached up to touch his cheek with two fingers.

"OK," she promised.

He smiled and rested his hand over her heart.

In moments their arms were wrapped tight around each other's bodies, faces pressed into each other's necks. Skin, sweat, clothes, all pushed tight. Tears shaking them, as the need for comfort, for each other, overwhelmed every other thought.

"I love you, too," she whispered, her lips resting behind his ear.

Dawson grinned with relief and dropped a soft kiss to her forehead. Reaching his hand down, he lifted her into his arms. "Hey, you're supposed to be off your feet."

She reached around his neck and giggled.

"Now," he announced, carrying her down the hall. "Let's get you to bed."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"That was amazing," Greg slipped a cup of coffee in front of Andie and sat down across from her.

"It was, wasn't it?' she smiled and took a sip. "I can't wait to get out there and see the baby in person."

"Did you ever consider it? OB GYN, I mean?"

Andie shook her head. "No, I think I always knew I wanted to get into the head stuff. Even back in high school. You?"

"Hell, no. I was going to be an astronaut, like my brother. Except a lot smarter."

Andie laughed. Noticed Greg's warm grey eyes and felt a small blush. "Smarter than the astronaut?"

"Well, he came at it as a fly jockey. Top Gun. Engineering school. All that. But I was always about 'The Brain! The Brain!'" Greg made spooky noises and wiggled his fingers. "Too many sci fi shows growing up, I guess. "

"Ah," she grinned.

Greg looked into his empty cup and nodded to himself.

"What?" Andie looked at him.

"It's just that…I think this is the first time I've seen you smile."

"That can't be right," she mused.

"It's nice," he told her.

"So," she cleared her throat. Thought of a way to change the subject. "This Fellowship isn't exactly on a NASA must-do list."

"No," he laughed. "Not so much. It's funny, you can think you have it all figured out then you get the curve ball…back when I was PSY1, on my clinic rotation, this case came in. You know how it is, reading out the stats, bam bam, you know? Then I look down. And there was this tiny little red-headed boy looking back at me…that was then end of my spacesuit dreams right there, I think."

She gave him an understanding look, it was a moment most doctors seemed to go through. "You did 2 years at Mayo?"

He nodded.

"Cool," she complimented him sincerely. It was one of the most competitive fellowships in the country.

"You could say that," he laughed. "Minnesota in the winter was a whole new world. I was a good ol' Texas boy who knew nothing about 8 foot snowdrifts. You gotta believe I jumped at the chance to get warm for a year."

"Yeah, t-shirts in February are kind of nice," she agreed, sipping her coffee and sighing with delight. It was the decent stuff from the cafeteria and not the poison from the Doctor's lounge.

"So…"

"So," She repeated, keeping her expression bland.

"So, look. Are you all right?"

Andie went still. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He exhaled and swallowed back the last of his own cup and then tossed it over into the paper recycling bin. Let her stew a moment, hoping she would open up. Just a crack.

She made a decision. "I'm all right. Before, I just got some…unexpected news."

"Followed by some friends having their baby in a Jeep Cherokee somewhere in a Massachusetts storm?"

Andie laughed a bit, seeing all the drama from his perspective. "Keeps life interesting."

They fell quiet again. More comfortably this time.

"Thanks for asking," she finally said.

"Sure," he smiled. Then the clock caught his eye. _"Shit_. We gotta get over to PICU. We run the board in, like, 2 minutes!"

"No way," Andie jumped, tossing her cup and heading for the exit.

He opened the door for her. "Look," he said, holding her back a second. "Uh, if I were to ask if you wanted to actually leave the hospital for a cup of coffee sometime…"

She noticed his eyes again. Liked them. "Or tea?"

"Yeah, or tea."

She ducked under his arm and started racing to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. Smiling, Greg followed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack stamped the snow off his shoes just inside the back door. And jumped with surprise when he realized Doug was standing there.

"Oh, man," Jack practically ran into his arms and lifted him off the ground. "Oh, man, what a night."

Doug held him back, resting his cheek in Jack's snowy hair for a moment. Then stepped back and chided his partner for tracking water into the kitchen.

"Shut up," Jack laughed, stepping into the small mud room by the door and stripping off his coat and gloves before bending down to unlace his boots. "It's practically Iceland out there, man. We're gonna have to get up at least an hour early to shovel out your car."

"No," Doug handed Jack a robe and took his wet clothes over to the washer to start a load. "I told one of the Deputies to pick me up in a couple of hours. I've had all hands on deck all night. We had a couple of accidents, two breakdowns, a couple of stores without power demanding security against looters – and of course a baby born in front of the old church. "

"Oh, yeah, and that," Jack laughed, filling the teakettle and putting it on to boil. "How's the princess?"

"Sleeping easy, finally. How's the newest prince?"

"Gorgeous!" Jack grabbed his cell phone off the counter and began scrolling through the pictures for Doug. "May I present? Brendan Mitchell Witter."

"He looks like a mushroom. A mushroom with a hat."

"He doesn't," Jack groaned. "He's absolutely perfect. And a full head of hair, though you can't see it."

"It's a good name, anyway," Doug approved. "The family might even like it."

"Well, I'm sure that's exactly why they picked it," Jack teased.

Doug took another long look at the glowing picture and passed the phone back. He pulled down two mugs and began considering what tea he was in the mood for. "Do you ever wish…"

"What?" Jack asked, reaching around him to grab some green tea.

"You know, a family like that. See your kid born."

"I _did_ see my kid born," Jack reminded him. "And she had quite a set of lungs on her, I'll tell you."

"Don't," Doug sighed. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," he poured a long ribbon of steaming water into his mug. "You know, I hadn't really thought about it. Until you came along, there was never really this need in me to think about family life. The scene in New York was not exactly conducive to babies. And then when Amy was born and I took this job back here…I don't want to sound dismissive, but it just didn't come up."

"Yeah," Doug popped a teabag into his own cup and nodded to himself. "See, that's the thing. I did want it all."

"You're kidding me," Jack scoffed.

"No, man. That was one of the hardest parts of looking in the mirror and seeing a gay man. Because I always thought I'd be a dad. Married, house, kids…"

"Huh," he looked at his partner with new eyes. "You can have those things as a gay man, Doug. You know? You can have them with me."

"It's not…"

"Please don't say 'It's not the same'. Because who would want it to be? Do you think Joey and Pacey dance around their living room celebrating how normal they are? How they've got a cookie cutter life? Really? No. They just _live_. Like us. They worry about snow tires, and the price of milk, and plan vacations. Just like we do, Doug. And yeah, OK, this country isn't exactly forward thinking about gay families yet, but we happen to live in one of the states that has actually legislated that we have the same rights as any other couple. If we want them."

"What are you saying? That you want to get married? Us? I'm the Sheriff, Jack."

"So be the married Sheriff. Yeah, I think that's what I'm saying. I want to get married, Doug. I want to marry _you_."

Doug put down his mug and stared at Jack. "You're can't be serious," he mused, disbelieving. "This is all from the high of seeing Brendan born."

"This is from the high of seeing Brendan born and then just wanting to come home _to you_. And share the excitement _with you_."

Doug exhaled. "Maybe we should think on this. Rest on it. Get all this other drama dealt with."

Jack groaned with frustration. In Doug's world, personal decisions could always wait. Then Jack remembered something and grabbed his briefcase off the floor of the mud room, rifling around for a moment. "Just so you know. This isn't out of the blue for me," he told Doug, sliding over a small packet of legal papers.

Doug slowly unfolded the papers. "This is an application for a joint adoption," he realized.

"Yeah."

"When did you…how…?" He looked up, confused.

"I was complaining to Dawson one time when we were on the phone. About how that one woman at the daycare likes to give you shit when you're the one to pick up Amy. It turns out, Dawson knows like a six-pack of lawyers. He offered to have one get in touch about drawing this up for me."

"This…"

"It's forever," Jack finished for him, slipping his hand over Doug's. "No matter what happens with us. It would mean you were Amy's father, too. For the rest of your life."

"When were you gonna…?"

"Now, it seems," he chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. "I had planned for Amy and I to take you out to Leery's restaurant for Valentine's Day and ask, but as it turns out I don't actually have the patience."

"Does this mean I don't get the fancy dinner?"

They both burst out laughing. "No, I still have the reservation. Provided we can find some sled dogs to get us there."

Doug looked back down at the paper. At the jaunty neon green sticky with an arrow pointing at where he had to sign his name. Then glanced back up at Jack. "Yes," he said, very quietly.

"Yes?"

"Yes," Doug repeated, louder and very certain. "Yes, I want to be Amy's father, too. Yes, I want to be the married Sheriff. Yes. To everything, Jack."

"Yes," Jack smiled so large that his face almost burst.

"Yes," Doug leaned in and kissed him soundly.

"Mmm," Jack said happily. "Definitely, yes."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Bodie Wells checked on his son, who was sleeping soundly. His watch told him that it was almost 7, but outside it was still dim and threatening to snow again.

He rubbed the back of his neck and wondered if he should salt the driveway. It didn't do much on the gravel, but it might add a little traction.

When his mobile phone rang in his pocket, Bodie answered it quickly, trying to avoid waking Alexander. "Hi," he said softly, heading back down the stairs.

"Hi, hun," Bessie's voice was hoarse with exhaustion, and happy. "How's Alexander? The Mobile Guide assessor just called me. He got snowed into Boston last night so we rescheduled for next week."

"Alexander's fine. No fever, probably just a 24-hour thing," Bodie nodded to himself. "No Mobile guy? Good, that's one less thing to worry about today. Daily deliveries are all gonna be delayed, too. But the special meat delivery for Valentine's Day is going to be on time."

"What about the Ice House?" she asked, leaning against the plate glass window in front of all the babies in the maternity ward.

"Pacey's manager called about 30 minutes ago, said their deliveries are delayed, too, but they should be fine. They closed up early last night when the storm hit."

"I want a baby…" she whispered, peering into the room looking for her nephew's bassinet.

"What?" Bodie stopped walking, unable to believe he heard right.

"I want a baby," she repeated, louder.

"What are they putting in that hospital coffee?" he demanded.

"It'll pass," she said, almost to herself. "It's probably just a lack of sleep and seeing this beautiful little boy get born…"

"Damn right," Bodie muttered.

"It's just…"

"What?" he asked gently.

"Alexander's going to be a teenager next year."

"I know," he groaned. "Challenge enough."

"You've never thought about it?"

"I've thought about it," Bodie admitted softly. "Especially recently. Hard not to."

"That little diner you worked in for a while, down the street from the cooking school…" she reminisced.

"Practicing my béarnaise sauce on a 2 buck open face turkey sandwich. And the owner firing me after 2 weeks when he saw I'd spent twice the budget on supplies."

"The long drives back and forth, trying to keep the Ice House going…"

"And you coming out of the bathroom, that Sunday morning, with the pregnancy test in your hand."

"It was a Sunday?"

"It was," he remembered. "I made Swedish waffles, and you never touched a bite."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be," he laughed gently. "Alexander still prefers cereal."

"Fruit Loops," she groaned. "And we were going to move to Italy, and live in a little studio. You would make magical herb experiments, I would learn to paint…"

"We were never going to move to Italy," Bodie corrected her.

"I thought we said Italy…"

"We _said_ Italy, but we never _meant_ Italy. We were always going to do exactly what we've done."

"Are you kidding? When have we ever had anything go to plan…"

"Bessie," he interrupted his partner. "From the moment we met, we knew we'd find a way to spend our lives together. Our dreams weren't geographically dependant. When your father went to prison and you had to move back home and take care of your sister, I remember thinking that it wasn't the adventure we'd planned – but it was certainly an adventure."

"And then I got pregnant."

"Another adventure. A great one."

"So, back to my original thought. Up for another one?"

"Whew," he exhaled. "You know, all this memory lane stuff's got me thinking. What about Italy?"

"Uh, Italy?"

"Yeah, Italy. This spring, before the tourist season really kicks in. Take Alexander out of school, find a little villa somewhere, go for 3 weeks. Maybe a month. How about March?"

"Are you kidding me?! Just up and leave in, what, two weeks? What about Joey and the new baby? What about the B&B? The restaurant?"

"Gale can handle the restaurant," Bodie told her. "Pacey will help. He offered to, when he asked for my help so he could take a paternity leave. And we can close the B&B, Bess. Just block out the time in the reservation program. It won't change the summer bookings. And, if you want to wait until mid-March to help out Joey, yeah, we could do that. Still be back for Easter."

"Italy…" she breathed.

Outside the window, the snow began to fall again. He could hear Alexander's footsteps on the creaky wood floors overhead as he went into the bathroom. Reaching over, Bodie flipped a switch on the coffee maker to start it brewing.

"Let's do it, Bess," he said. "And we can talk about a baby then, talk about everything."

"Let's do it," she agreed. "I'm serious, Bodie. Let's go to Italy."

"All right," he smiled. "I'll get started on the arrangements. You kiss our new nephew for me, all right?"

"All right," she agreed, her grin stretching a very tired face.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"I can be there in, like, 3 hours. My father has a timeshare on this jet, if you can believe that, and I'll just call…"

"No, Audrey," Joey begged. "Don't call your father's jet, please. I won't be awake in 3 hours."

Pacey began waving his hands urgently, silently begging his wife to halt any incursions by his ex-girlfriend.

"But I can't wait to see him. I bet he's absolutely gorgeous! Whose hair did he get? Yours or Pacey's?"

"Uh, a mixture, I think. Although my sister says he looks like me."

"Thank GOD," Audrey teased over the phone. "The world can absolutely not take another Pacey Witter. Plus, you're cuter. By far."

"What did I say who looks like?" Bessie demanded, re-entering the room and catching the tail end of Joey's comment.

"Audrey," Pacey whispered to her. "We're trying to head off an invasion."

"God, yes, please," Bessie begged, her normally raspy voice almost faded to nothing with tiredness. She collapsed onto the little couch that was supposed to double as a bed for the new father and stuffed a pillow under her head. Pacey would have had to fold himself into an origami swan in order to fit on that piece of furniture, so he'd pushed together some chairs next to Joey's bed, instead.

"Didn't your sister give birth somewhere crazy, too?"

"Dawson's house," Joey agreed. "It's family tradition not to make it to the hospital," she gave her sister a look.

"Stupid tradition," Pacey muttered, taking a long swallow from a water bottle. "Next kid is gonna be born in the hospital if I have to glue you here starting in your first trimester," he swore.

"NEXT baby?" Joey squealed.

"Holy shit," Audrey swore. "Don't you have to wait like, at least a day, before getting pregnant again?"

"Pacey is just joking," Joey told her, sticking her tongue out at him.

He stuck out his tongue back at her. "C'mon, woman, get off the phone."

"I have to go, Audrey," Joey told her. "They said they would bring Brendan back soon, and I need some rest."

"Oh, of course. What about tomorrow? I could be there tomorrow."

"Can I call you back and talk about it?"

"Of course! And give Pace a hug for me, all right? And the gorgeous new baby?"

"I will," she promised, disconnecting. "Well, that's all the calls." She closed her little address book and put it on the nightstand. Pacey leaned over and tucked the blanket around her carefully, fussing a little.

"Except one," Bessie annouced quietly.

"Except one," Pacey agreed.

Joey looked down at her hands and nodded. "Except one."


	8. Planes, Trains & Automobiles

_A/N: The Dawson's Creek version of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. This is all from Dawson's perspective. The balance of Brendan's birth story - which was Joey's perspective. I decided to cut off the very last bit for a final standalone chapter because it had gotten so long, and that part shouldn't get all buried. Thank thank thank you for all your comments. Being sick and miserable, you all have just about made me feel better with your responses. I think maybe the Ever After series is done now. Each installment seems to have been a little less... uh, good? Exciting? And anyway, I can't think of who else's story there is left to tell (unless Grams starts getting down with her own bad self!) I love you readers. Seriously. And that's not the Nyquil talking. Ok, maybe it is a little..._

_------------------------------------- _

**Tuesday, 9:25AM**

**Union Station, Los Angeles**

Dawson carried Gretchen's bags down the aisle until they found her compartment. "Here we are, Cabin B."

The train's deluxe bedroom was actually fairly spacious. There was a couch facing a chair with a table in between. A sink and bathroom. Even a small bouquet of flowers.

"It's nice," Gretchen dropped her purse on the couch and looked out the window. "You know, I've always wanted to do this. It's supposed to be the most beautiful scenery in the country."

"Are you sure you're all right with me flying?"

"Yes," she leaned over and kissed him. "It's fine, Dawson. Do what you have to do. This is actually going to be a great trip. I have my laptop, my books, and a stupendous view. I felt a little silly about not wanting to get back on a plane, but I think it's going to end up being really cool."

"Not silly, cautious," he corrected, kissing her back. "A car service will meet you at the train station. And I will see you in San Francisco tonight, all right?" _Kissed her again. More lingeringly. His palm sliding over to the baby bump. Lost in the moment_.

"Tonight," she promised.

"And then we'll start hunting for your skinny Victorian. OK, so you've got your ticket? The charger for you phone? The water bottle? Everything?"

"Yes, Dad," she teased, pushing him out of the cabin. "Go, before you end up being a stowaway."

He let himself get maneuvered back out to the hall and then turned back for one last kiss.

"Go!" she ordered, laughing.

He saluted her and headed towards the exit. By the time he got back down to the platform, he was running.

**9:45AM**

**Cedars-Sinai Hospital**

**Los Angeles**

"Hey," she said, slipping into the passenger seat.

"Hey," he answered, wanting to lean over and kiss her cheek, or something. But feeling too awkward. "Thanks for meeting me. Especially here."

She looked around the visitor parking lot and shrugged. "You know, Dawson, I practically live here anyway."

"We can't leave it like this, Andie."

"I know," she blew a stream of air out of her lips and watched as a little spray of rain began to fall on the windshield.

"It wasn't a mistake."

"If you say so," She hated that he wouldn't admit it. Admit that they shouldn't have had sex, shouldn't have betrayed all those years of platonic camaraderie they'd had. And now, it seemed, lost.

"What do you want me to say, Andie? Because whatever I need to do to fight to get our friendship back, I'll do it."

"I just wish I could rewind back to last Friday night, or early Saturday morning, or whenever it was that we got to your place all buzzed and stupid," she admitted sadly.

Dawson groaned and leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. "You know what? I'm not going to fight over whether it was a mistake or not with you. Because I just want make it right. For all of us. We've been friends too long to throw it away, don't you think?"

She nodded, capitulating. "What about Gretchen?"

"She showed up Sunday, after you left." He sat back up and locked eyes with Andie. "I have to tell you, Andie. Sometimes life is crazier than the scripts I write. Gretchen is, well, she's, she's pregnant. We're pregnant, I mean. Having a baby, together. Which I swear to you I did not know when I was with you."

He waited for the explosion. The shock. The anger and frustration. _Something_.

"I know," she said quietly. "I saw you two in the hospital." She decided to leave out the part where Jack told her.

"Oh."

"She's all right now?"

"What? Yes. They both are. On a train headed up to San Francisco. I'm going to join her there tonight."

"So that's that," Andie nodded and reached for the door handle. Dawson reached over and stopped her hand. Put his fingers in her hair.

"You are amazing, Andie," he told her.

She pressed her lips to his, whisper soft. "So are you," she answered. "But it's time to leave the woods now. Back to life."

"I'll see you," he said, letting go of her hand. Her hair. Leaning back into his seat.

"Congratulations on the baby," she said, slipping out the door.

"Thanks," he called back, but she was already gone.

**10:20AM**

**LAX Airport**

**Los Angeles**

_Valet parking at the airport. Brilliant. _

Dawson tossed his keys at the attendant and grabbed the claim check all in one smooth motion and just started jogging. Chastised himself for detouring to talk to Andie. Then Security held him up for a few minutes, but the moment he got clear he headed to the gate at full speed.

He skidded to the door just as they were finishing boarding.

"You made it," the attendant smiled, scanning the boarding pass he'd printed at home. "Seat 3A, just inside the plane."

"Thanks," he yelled to her as he headed down the gangway.

**6:40PM (Local Time)**

**Logan Airport**

**Boston**

He was the fourth person off the plane.

"Mr Leery?" The charter employee stepped forward and reached for his laptop case.

"I got it, just lead me to the gate," Dawson instructed.

The other man nodded and began weaving down the corridor, with Dawson matching his strides. They bobbed through the crowds, finally coming to a private door.

A quick swipe of the guy's plastic card and they were in a much quieter piece of the airport. They walked up to a small desk where a woman greeted him.

"I'm ready when you are," Dawson said, nodding at the door.

"All right then," she pressed a code and pushed the door open. "Let's get you to the Cape."

**7:25PM (Local Time)**

**Cape Cod Airport**

He turned the key in the ignition and the 4-wheel drive SUV roared to life. Immediately, Dawson flipped the heaters on to high.

It took almost 5 minutes of shivering. The seat warmers and hot air did the trick though, and Dawson defrosted again.

He'd flown into the aftermath of a huge storm wearing a thin suede jacket. "Idiot," he swore at himself.

Tucking the ear bud of his phone into his ear, he threw the monster car into gear and headed towards the airstrip's exit. Turned the power on his phone and pressed a speed dial as soon as it locked on to signal.

"Dawson?"

"Mom, hey, I'm here. I'm pulling onto 6A, should be in Capeside in about 10 minutes."

"See you soon," she rang off.

He maneuvered the icy streets. The dark roads bordered in snow-covered evergreens, thickly forested on either side of the road. That was the thing that always let Dawson know he was home; that unique combination of pine scent in the salty air.

The trees began to fall farther and farther back from the road. Streetlights dotting it with small circles of light. The bright moon drifting out from behind the clouds.

Into his headlights, the sign for Capeside – big and white on the side of the road – came into view.

_Home_.

As he coasted through town, he made a slight detour. A little whim.

The townhouse was ablaze in lights, like a party. Clusters of balloons drooping from the mailbox out front.

He pulled to a stop along the curb and got out of the car.

"Dawson!" Shouted Jack from the front door. "Where the hell did you come from? How did you find out?"

"Find out?" he stepped into the living room, his forehead puddled in confusion.

"Dawson?" Joey sat on the couch, amazed. "But I've been trying to reach you since yesterday."

"Had my phone off for most of the time," he admitted, looking around and waving hello to Doug and Amy and Bessie and Alexander.

She patted the seat next to her and he sat down.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking at her pale face.

"Dawson, man," Pacey said gently from behind him.

He twisted and looked up. Shocked. The bundle in Pacey's arms. Pink cheeks. Sleeping eyes with long eyelashes. A tiny hand grabbing onto the soft blue blanket.

"Oh," Dawson felt himself shake and didn't know what else to say.

"Dawson?" Joey took her son from Pacey and carefully handed him into Dawson's arms. "I would like you to meet Brendan Mitchell Witter."

Dawson stared at the small bundle in his hands.

"Is it all right?" she asked, meaning the name.

"It's perfect," he promised her. Looked at her son. "Hello, Brendan Mitchell Witter," his voice broke as he said his father's name. He couldn't help it. The beautiful baby slept in his hands, unaware of the legacy he carried. The world he'd been born into. "Hello," he repeated.

As Pacey led everyone back into the kitchen to give the three some privacy. Joey reached out her hand to cover Dawson's.

"Mom didn't tell me," he said. "I just talked to her, she didn't say a word."

"I asked her to let me be the one to give you the news."

He nodded and looked down again at the baby. "Jo," Dawson shook his head in disbelief and amazement. "I have something to tell you, too."

"OK," she squeezed his hand. "Tell me."

**8:40PM (Local Time)**

**Public Beach**

**Capeside**

It was his last stop. His insanely scheduled day had fallen apart. He was missing his flight back to California. But he couldn't force himself to the airport yet to try and find another flight way back.

Something had pulled him here. Like the call of a siren.

He walked into the freezing breeze of the dunes, marching towards the inky black of the water.

Memories buffeting him with the winds.

This was his water. His ocean. His creek opening into it, like a watery road. This is where he'd walked a thousand miles over a million days. Walking hand in hand with Jo. Joking around with Pacey. Flirting with Jen. Racing full speed into the splash after a miserably hot day of painting with Jack or working in that video store.

Where he'd come ashore after a badly played regatta, once upon a time.

Where he'd declared himself to Gretchen at the end of one long, long day.

_Dawson: Today is a perfect example of how our visions for our lives conflict with realities. I still have my distortions and my delusions. I still think that everything should be perfect, and that Joey and I should have slept together for the first time. What I realized is that I gotta let go. You know, it's time. And there's so much ahead of me. I mean, there's college, there's this new baby... and there's you._

_Gretchen: So what are you saying?_

_Dawson: I'm in love with you, and I no longer remember what we're waiting for._

_Gretchen: Neither do I._

The waves crashed up against the snow-covered sand. The stars reflected onto the ocean.

Dawson stood and watched it all, and remembered.

_Brendan Mitchell Witter_. Joey's baby. Joey's son, named after his own father.

He tried to wipe his mind of should have been's. Of the delusions that would haunt him, it seemed, his entire life.

Andie's long blond hair and naked shoulder. The curve of her long neck as she'd twisted beneath him in bed. When had it been? Just days. Days, hours.

_Gretchen_.

The look on her face as she walked in the door. The heartbeat of his own child, pounding into a little hospital cubby.

Dawson inhaled the frigid air. Listened to the roar and fall of the ocean.

He reached into his pocket. With a shaking hand, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. One he'd been carrying for two days.

Unfolding it, slowly. Letting the dim light slowly bring a single word clear.

He felt his body convulse, and couldn't stop it. Dawson fell to his knees in the frozen sand and bent over. Crying so hard he could barely breathe.

Crying into the sand where he'd given his heart to Gretchen. Trying to hold nothing back to what should have been. And weeping now, all these years later, for the last of it. The too much of it.

And for the daughter that waited for him on the other side of moon.

**9:20PM (Local Time)**

**Logan Approach**

**Boston**

"Sir?" The pilot called to him from the cockpit.

"What's up?"

"You're in luck, sir. Ground says the plane's been held for de-icing. They're still at the gate and they have an open seat. You'll make the flight after all."

Dawson flashed him a thumb's up and breathed a sigh of relief.

**1:05AM (Local Time)**

**San Francisco Airport**

Dawson pressed a speed dial number as he exited the elevator. "Hey, did I wake you?"

Gretchen smiled and stretched on her sofa. "Finally! I've been getting your voice mail for hours! No, don't worry about me. I slept on the train. It was gorgeous, Dawson. We absolutely have to do it together. The views are incredible!"

"OK," he laughed, happy to hear her so happy.

"Plus, sex."

He stopped in the middle of the parking garage. "Sex?"

"Yes, sex. That thing we waited so long to do? We absolutely have to do it on a train, Dawson."

"Sex," he repeated. "On a train."

"Yeah, dude!" A guy flashed him the hang loose sign as he brushed by Dawson to his own car. "Totally!" he whooped.

"What was that?"

"The consensus from the parking garage is that we should absolutely have sex on a train."

"Well, it's good you're taking a poll," she decided. "B21."

"Yes, I remember B21." He looked up. He was in B31. Swearing to himself he headed back the way he'd came.

"You're lost," she accused.

"I'm not lost," he insisted. "Just…misdirected."

"Get unmisdirected. Find my car, and get going already. I miss you."

He smiled to himself and exhaled. "I'll be home soon," he promised.


	9. Ask Her

Well, this is it. Then end of 'Ever I Loved' anthology. Whether you loved it, hated it, or it bored you to tears (but bless you for reading anyway!!) I hope you'll tell me what you thought. Help feed an attention starved writer, and turn her into a decent one with some yummy feedback. Please!!!! You are, without a doubt, the coolest bunch. Thanks for loving DC with me, you are why I wrote these 3 stories!!

This is why he raced to Capeside. The big bang, so to speak. Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**10 years ago…**

_Pacey: Dawson, you and I are friends. Friends. But sisters… Sisters are…_

_Dawson: Off limits?_

_Pacey: Yes. Sisters are off limits. They're like mother's, only pretty._

_Dawson: I'm not asking for your permission, Pacey. I'm just letting you know._

_Pacey: So what are your plans?_

_Dawson: My plans?_

_Pacey: Yeah, to pursue my sister. What are you going to do?_

_Dawson: Nothing._

_Pacey: Nothing? Well what kind of plan is nothing?_

_Dawson: I just decided to let things play out. That's one thing I learned after last spring is that some things can't be forced._

_Pacey: So then your plan would be to not have a plan?_

_Dawson: Exactly._

_Pacey: The Tao of Dawson is to do nothing._

_Dawson: Done nothing so far. We've kissed. Figured the best thing I could do was keep on doing nothing._

**Today…**

Dawson Leery watched his girlfriend finish dressing as he packed his messenger bag. "Here goes nothing," he said to himself. Then he pulled the strap over his chest and took a deep breath.

------------------------------------------------------------

They asked the real estate agent to meet them at the coffee shop. Dawson and Gretchen had slept in, and were hungry for breakfast food.

Gretchen's intelligent eyes flashing with excitement. Dawson's phone buzzing every few minutes.

"It's only Wednesday," she teased. "They haven't even lived 3 days without you."

"I know," he groaned.

Then Gretchen's phone began to chirp and they broke out laughing when she announced it was the newspaper.

"Answer it," he begged. "Then I won't feel guilty about answering mine."

She wrinkled her nose at him. The real estate agent in the bright red suit found them a few minutes later, each on their phones and sharing a Danish.

Dawson had known, deep inside, that they would find the right house. As he and Gretchen had talked about it deep into Monday night, he'd had a sense that it would _all_ come together.

She'd doubted. It had taken her months to find the right place for herself the first time. She'd cautioned him about the San Francisco real estate market.

He'd nodded, and believed her. But knew in his soul that it would happen for them.

And he'd been right.

It turned out to be, in fact, the second house they looked at.

A pale minty blue Victorian in the Haight with royal blue and bright green accents and a massive oak door. A tiny one-car garage under it, facing the street on the world's shortest driveway. And inside all gleaming wood floors and new fixtures from a recent gut rehab.

Dawson knew from the expression on Gretchen's face the moment they pulled to a stop behind the agent's car that this was it.

"Original moldings," the agent pointed out. "The kitchen has matching stainless and marble countertops…"

"I hate stainless," he grumbled. "Refrigerators should have magnets on them. Stainless repels magnets."

"How many bedrooms?" Gretchen asked, giving him a warning look.

"Three. All on the second floor with a master en suite. And there's a fully finished space on the third floor that could be a studio or an extra bedroom. And a partially finished basement."

On the main floor, the two living room spaces and the dining room all opened on to each other. A tiny den that could work as an office was tucked behind pocket doors. Off the kitchen, a glassed-in sunroom reached onto the tiny patch of lawn.

The house's asking price was the equivalent to the budget of a small independent film. Dawson did the math in his head and gave up. He knew he could make the payments, and from the expression on Gretchen's ecstatic face – it was all a foregone conclusion.

"This just came on the market last Saturday," the agent led them up the refurbished staircase. Pointed out the art glass and the handcrafted newel posts. "It won't last the week. Especially considering you can take immediate possession."

"We'll need a certified inspection," Dawson stipulated.

"Of course," The agent agreed, as Gretchen walked ahead of them, trailing her hand along the wainscoting in the hallway. "You know, I love your shows," she told Dawson.

"Thanks," he watched as Gretchen gave a delighted squeak as she kicked off her shoes and climbed into the large tub in the master bathroom. "Look at that view!" she crowed.

Dawson sat on the edge of the tub and looked with her out the window.

"Especially last season on '_The Creek'_...That dream wedding, from a few years ago? That was gorgeous! And now the whole gang is figuring out college and, oh, I have to tell you, when _I_ was in college, we all watched '_Felicity_' faithfully."

"Uh, '_Felicity'_ was JJ Abrams, but thank you."

"Are you sure?" The agent thought hard a moment.

"Pretty sure," Dawson answered sardonically. He helped Gretchen out and they continued touring.

"Oh, but _Dogma_! That movie was you, right?"

"Kevin Smith," Dawson corrected.

"_The O.C._?"

"Mc G."

"_The Later Years_! With the girl who killed her high school boyfriend, except then didn't?"

"THAT was me," Dawson allowed.

"See? I knew I loved your stuff."

Gretchen snickered as she led Dawson into one of the other bedrooms and inspected the closet. At the last second, she pulled him into the closet with her and pulled the door shut after them.

The agent pretended not to notice.

"I love this house!" She whispered, kissing him quickly. "But it's too expensive!"

He sought her eyes in the dark closet. "We can afford it," he promised.

"You mean YOU can afford it. I can't even afford the garage, Dawson. I'm not sure how I feel about this."

"WE can afford it," he repeated, taking her hands. "Just answer me, is this the house you want to bring our baby home to?"

"Uh, you all right in there?" the agent called.

"Just a second, please!" Dawson yelled through the door. "Is this the house?" he asked Gretchen again. "We can look at more. As many as you want."

"What about you?"

"I like this house, but seriously I'm not a guy who is going to fall in love with real estate. It's wherever you are that matters to me. It's where this baby is. It's where we call home, you know?"

"It's huge, Dawson. We'd be living in empty rooms. It's not sensible."

"We can buy furniture," he told her. "Starting, to be honest, with a bed. 'Cuz yours sucks." He kissed her lips in the dark, smiling. "Tell me you want the house," he urged.

Gretchen took a deep breath. "I do," she allowed. "Oh, Dawson, I do. It's exactly the kind of house I've wanted since I came to San Francisco."

"Done."

They filled out the paperwork in the big kitchen. The negotiations took Dawson and the agent both pulling out their laptops and the agent setting up portable scanner and printer, using all their cell phones combined.

There was some bargaining.

But by 6PM, the agent was waving cheerily goodbye with a pile of papers under her arm.

"It's ours?" Gretchen looked at the keys in her hand, stunned.

Dawson nodded.

She threw her arms around him, her face lit up like Christmas. "It's ours!"

He nuzzled her hair, smiling.

"Oh, I don't want to leave it now. That's crazy, right?"

"Not at all," he assured her, softly. "If you want, we can run to the condo and get some things. Find a Target or a Mervyn's and get whatever else we need. Or at least an air bed and some supplies. Do you need anything special for the sonogram tomorrow?"

"Just the baby," she shrugged, searching his expression. 'Wait. You're serious? We can just move right in, right now?"

"As long as you promise to get off your feet already," he chided.

"No chairs," she pointed out.

"We'll buy some of those, too. But until then, this a very nice floor," he pulled her down with him and they collapsed together, backs against the kitchen wall.

"Do you think we can get this place functioning by Sunday?" He asked after a long moment. "I have to be in Los Angeles on Monday."

"Ah," she sighed. "Bubble broken already."

"No, no…a demo got approved for a sort of backdoor pilot. They want a movie of the week kind of a thing –I'm really pumped about the concept. And of course, it has to be ready before the end of this season. Honestly, if I had an office already set up here, most of this I could do remotely." He rested his chin in her hair. "But I do have to hire some movers to get most of my stuff up here. I'll just leave what I need for when I'm staying in L.A."

"It's all too fast, right?"

"Does it feel too fast?"

She deliberated a moment, absently rubbing her belly. "Not for me. But I've had a head start on you."

"Oh, you think so? Well, I was dreaming about you when I was 13. In fact, I can honestly tell you that you gave Katie Couric some serious competition in my boyhood fantasies."

"Eww!" Gretchen groaned, giggling.

"Hey, that's a high compliment. So, do you think that's enough lead time? 15 years?"

"I guess so."

"Do me a favor," he slipped out from behind her and softly laid his hand over her face. "Close your eyes a moment, ok?"

She nodded, covering them with her hand.

He found his messenger bag and began rummaging in the back compartment.

"What are you doing?" she demanded after a few minutes.

"Patience!" he teased, reaching over to dim the lights. "OK," he sat down across from her on the floor.

"OK?"

"OK, open your eyes."

She blinked and looked around. Seeing nothing particularly different. "What?" she quizzed him.

"One of the drawbacks of being so conscientious about the past…"

"A sentimental hoarder, you mean," she teased.

"Shh," he chided. "Is that I used to get so terrified of making the same mistakes that I made in the past that I would just get paralyzed by it all in my head. Back and forth. The first time we got together, you were so fearless and honest and I just couldn't get over the fact that I was finally allowed to kiss Gretchen Witter. It absolutely gutted me, but in this amazing way…"

"Didn't stop you from taking advantage of that free pass," she taunted.

"True," he reached across their laps and pressed his lips against hers. Nibbled her lower lip gently.

"Mmm," she purred.

"Indeed," he grinned, pulling back. "Ready?"

"For what?"

"Now there's the sense of adventure we all know and love!" He rummaged in his messenger bag and pulled out a little keychain.

"A keychain?"

"A Lucky the Leprechaun keychain," he corrected. "Second year at USC, I shot my first – and last - series of commercials. I was given this as a giveaway thing and I swear, my heart leaped out of my chest because suddenly, all I could see was your tattoo."

"Ah," she blushed, taking it and squeezing it in her hand.

He held up a slip of a ticket.

"What's that?" she reached out and read it. "Oh, God. Prom."

"Single most…disappointing night of my life."

"You're kidding me."

"No, I know when I'm kidding. This isn't it. I'd had everything planned, Gretchen. Down to the most embarrassing condom purchase in recorded history. There was nothing I wasn't anticipating in that night. And then…"

"Promicide," Gretchen recalled.

"Nuclear promicide," he chuckled wryly. "And the thing is, my utter and total disappointment wasn't because of you, or Joey, or even Pacey. It was because of me. I was completely in love with you, Gretch. And I walked away. And I shouldn't have-"

"It was Joey, getting her heart broken by my idiot brother-"

"And you know what? That was their shit. Not ours. You needed me. You'd done this incredibly brave thing, to step into the past just to give me this one memory, this one night, and what did I do?"

"Bombed it to smithereens?"

"And beyond," he agreed. "I walked away from you. And if I could take back just one decision…"

"You and Joey had unfinished business," she recalled.

"Well, that was sort of an unbearable statement of being back then. Done now, though."

"Good to know," she touched his lips with her finger.

"OK" he rummaged around in his bag again and pulled out a small jar. He twisted off the top with a grunt. "You have no idea what it was like getting this through airport security," he told her.

She held out her hand and he poured the jar into it. Warm tan sand sifted in between her fingers.

"From Capeside …"

She gripped the small pile of it tightly in her hand, suddenly fighting back tears.

He handed her a sheaf of papers. She took it in her other hand, reading. Recognizing.

"… Which would be a fitting punishment," he recited from memory. "For loving a skirt like you."

Gretchen looked down at the page and back up. "Funny, I thought I was a dame."

Dawson met Gretchen's gaze fondly. "No, my dear, you're a skirt. Most definitely a skirt."

Then he reached back into his bag and took out a small pair of speakers. He slipped his iPhone from its holster and connected it. After a second, a song began to play.

"Alison!" Gretchen recognized the tune.

"You had an Elvis Costello sticker on your folder, freshman year of high school," he remembered. "I didn't even know who Elvis Costello_was_. But all my life since then, I buy his CD's the moment they come out."

"Me, too," she grinned.

They listened to the song;

_Oh, it's so funny to be seeing you after so long, girl  
And with the way you look, I understand that you were not impressed  
But I heard you let that little friend of mine  
Take off your party dress  
I'm not gonna get too sentimental  
Like those other sticky valentines  
'Cause I don't know if you are loving some body  
_I_ only know it isn't mine…Allison...my aim is true._

"Not exactly woo music," he laughed.

"It is, to me," she argued. "Is that what you're doing here, Daws? Pitching woo? Because I got to tell you, you already won the girl."

"Have I?" Dawson asked her, seriously.

She pointed at her belly, grinning. But the smile faded when she saw how serious he was. "Dawson?"

"You know, my dad fell in love with my mother when they were in college. He wanted to propose, but they were still paying for school and didn't have the money for a ring. So he went to his mom, and asked if there was any family jewelry he could pass on to my mother as an engagement gift. Grandma, well, she hadn't quite warmed up to my mother and said 'no'."

"Oh, cold."

"Yeah, well, Grandma was quick to thaw once I was in the picture but that was a couple of years later. Back then, though, Dad ended up sort of complaining about it with _his_ grandparents. And these were the grandparents that didn't exactly have a cache of jewels hidden in the attic, they were modest people."

Gretchen nodded, carefully putting aside Mr. Brooks script and pouring the sand back into the bottle.

"And my grandmother took off her own engagement ring," Dawson continued. "And handed it to my dad. It was actually an anniversary type of ring, but it had diamonds set in it and she thought it would do for my father. Dad didn't want to take it. They argued, but my grandmother could out-stubborn a mule."

"I never heard this story, before."

Dawson put his hands over hers and brushed the last little grains of sand from her hand onto the floor.

"When my parents got remarried, my dad bought her a new ring. We've put that in a safety deposit box for when Lily grows up."

"Hmm."

"Gretchen, you once told me that sex was just mechanics. But you didn't mean it. If you had, then we would have done it any one of the times we had the chance."

She cocked her head in thought.

"Then last summer, I finally got to dance with you again. Be with you. And that morning, after the wedding, when I picked you up for brunch. But we somehow ended up at my house. It wasn't just sex, Gretchen."

"No," she agreed. "Although it took another 3 weeks before I saw you again. I was beginning to wonder…"

Then Gretchen felt something cold in her palm and looked down. Opened up her fingers like a flower. Saw the gold band there.

"This is the ring, the one my great-grandfather gave my great-grandmother. And now it belongs to you."

"Dawson…" she gasped.

Dawson reached out and drew her chin up with a finger. "You shouldn't have wondered. If you had asked, I would have told you that I was already thinking about forever. I just haven't known how you felt."

"How I felt?"

"Gretchen, when you sent me away I really didn't know if it was the end. Look around you. I am a walking billboard for everything I've ever experienced and how I've felt about it. The poster child for sentimentality. But, you. You keep your emotions so private…" he looked into her eyes. "Tell me you love me."

"I…love you, Dawson."

He watched her expression. Searching her eyes.

"I love you, Dawson," she repeated. "You are, absolutely, the love of my life. I just didn't think I was yours."

"I was worried about being loser #7, and you were worried about second best. How do we put that away? For good?"

"Just believe, I guess."

"Do you?"

Gretchen looked around the kitchen, and then back at him. "I do," she answered simply.

"There had never been anyone like you in my life. Beautiful and brilliant and down-to-Earth and honest. You have so much emotional courage. And the sexiest body ever to slip into blue jeans. You get me, you love what I love, your hometown is mine, too. And even if you weren't carrying our daughter…"

Gretchen gasped to hear the sex of their child. She grabbed her belly, awestruck. Dawson sat up, until he was on his knees in front of her.

"…Even if you weren't, I would want you to be. I would be throwing you down onto this floor and making her with you. I am hopelessly in love with you, Gretchen Witter. You are the heart of this family. Please, please, do me the honor of marrying me."

She looked down at the ring in one hand, and the swell of their baby under the other.

"Yes, Dawson," she answered, sobbing. "Please, yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Yes!" he shouted, crushing Gretchen into a kiss before formally slipping the ring onto her finger. "Yes. Yes…"

They tumbled to the floor, embracing. Touching.

"Yes," she laughed, as he wiped her tears.

"Yes!"


End file.
